My Hearts Beats of Burden.

I'd like to think myself a better child than most. I'm a perfect 50/50 of my parents. I do what I'm told and don't ask for too much.

I'm not happy right now though because my dad just told me how I was bothering him so much.

I have never once opened a door without knocking. You've done it twice now; once was a lucky miss for the bathroom, the other was this morning. I was not dressed. But no, you can walk into my room and put my stuff in here without knocking. I would have much fucking preferred you risk waking me up to risking seeing me unclothed. "Sorry" is all you said. Fuck you. I was in my god damned room and this house has never had working locks. I'm 19. You don't walk in on me.

Yes, I've walked in on you. In the living room. Drunk, masturbating to porn on your secret laptop, back when mom was still alive. Did this twice. It was the LIVING ROOM. Not YOUR ROOM. I would NEVER walk into somewhere without permission. Even if knocking risked annoyance, at least I have the decency to give people privacy.

And the way you treated me today around our guest. The sighs, the grunts, the eyes. You just...completely disrespected me in front of her and her children. Do I do that to you? NO. Sure, I call you fairly unaware of emotions. You are. You have laughed at the most unlaughable things in a relationship before. I say you yell. You do; not loud, just with a stern voice that freezes me in place.

I am a good kid. I throw my trash out the proper ways, rinse the dishes off, turn off anything I'm not using. I do my best not to 'mess things up' by, I dunno...leaving a game in the den, maybe? Or a book on the couch. You flip. I make mistakes. I am human. YOU left one of those fucking cans of beer in the den. You know how much it hurts me. You know. You shouldn't be drinking after you saw her die like that. Fuck you.

Yes. My room is a mess. I'm a teenager. Seriously, you expect me to be clean as hell? My OCD is dermatillomania, not cleanliness. I'm not a 'horder' like my uncle and aunt. Don't you dare tell me how I'm becoming them. Or ever tell me I'm not eating right. Or wasting my money and my life.

You. Have. No. Right.

I have seen what others do. Most teens my age are buying drugs, beer, and cigs. I pay for WoW. No, my job doesn't give me the best hours; but how can it when I have such a limited amount of time to work every day? Until I get a car, I only have a maximum 6 hours a day that I can work. The same 6 hours, I might add, that all my co-workers are getting out of school. So no. I won't have a lot of hours. I will get sent home early on slow nights. I get a job and you get pissed that I'm not earning enough. How can I get 2 jobs when I don't have car access to get to both?

I pay for the gas, I pay for my meds, you pay less and less for me each month. And yet I'm still ruining your life. I think I hear you typing angrily to your gf in California right now about how I'm pissing you off.

I am a good kid who picks thimbleberries for you and likes to talk with you and share ideas.

Just because I'm a girl with emotions and a few different interests...doesn't mean I'm ruining your life.

:/

Ugh...